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CONNOR HEARD THE SAVAGES’ voices inside the deserted villa, but couldn’t make out what they were saying. He preferred it that way. He needed to sort things out, and none of them could possibly understand the full impact of Tony’s betrayal.
He welcomed the cold, damp air and the rain’s soothing patter. It helped him to focus.
They’d always known the collaborators would come after them, if and when they knew whom to look for. The threat of exposure was always in the back of their minds. The risk was worth it, for the promise of restoring a human-only Enclave.
There was also the potential of someone cracking under pressure, and betraying the cause. Connor had little difficulty acknowledging that danger, in theory.
But more than Tony’s betrayal was troubling him. Complete deniability. Those had been his exact words. Cannon fodder.
Beneath his contempt for Tony’s treachery, the chauffeur’s parting words left Connor shaken. He was loyal to Darcy, devoted to their shared cause—but there was a ring of truth to Tony’s outlandish accusation.
Darcy ordered Madison’s execution. Connor tried to think objectively. And he threatened me—there’s no other word for it—told me I was expendable if I jeopardized the cause.
His thoughts strayed to the savages they’d Implanted as weapons against the collaborators. Including his allies inside the villa. Animals. That’s all they’re good for.
For the first time, the words lacked conviction. The recurring theme was Darcy’s ruthless obsession with his cause.
He wouldn’t sacrifice me along with the savages. Connor couldn’t accept the implications of Tony’s accusation. Taking a node so he’d have an excuse to not join us when we go after the Givers? No—Tony’s a liar.
A thunderclap startled him, vibrating through the patio stones beneath him. He glanced through the open patio door, and was surprised to see Mateo.
Connor jumped to his feet and slipped inside the villa. Don was speaking as he entered.
“Your young associate—Logan, is it? —told us to stay put.” The big man re-sheathed his knife, but his massive hand kept a casual grip on the handle. “I think his exact words were ‘wait here.’”
Mateo studied him with a benign expression, undeterred. “Those were my instructions, yes. You were to remain in this villa until I arrived. Now that I’m here, we must move without delay. The rest of the team is waiting for us.”
“Maybe you haven’t heard.” Don crossed his arms over his barrel chest. “We’re on the Enclave’s most-wanted list, and the Peace Wardens are looking for us. Logan said the owner of this villa died in the Council Chamber bombing. This is as good a hidey-hole as any.”
Garr interrupted their tense standoff. “Darcy and I haven’t finalized our plans yet. We can’t confront the Givers without a proper strategy. We need to lay low until we hear from him.”
Mateo cocked his head to one side. The fiery red glow of his scanner flashed into brilliant life.
“A number of the Wardens searching for you are Trackers,” he said, indicating his glowing eye.
“What—is that supposed to be some kind of a threat?” Jane snorted, not looking at him. “The Trackers can scan until their eyes fall out. We aren’t packing high-tech weapons. There’s nothing for them to scan”
Sheila bolted forward in her seat. “There’s something else. Something you’re not telling us.” Her accusation hung in the air between them.
Keep your mouth shut, Tracker. Connor balled his hands into fists, desperately trying to catch Mateo’s eye. Don’t give away Darcy’s strategy.
Mateo paused, his mouth open, looking from Sheila to Garr and back.
“Sheila, I regret there’s no better way to inform you,” he said at last. “You and the Colonel were Implanted during your first visit to the Enclave.”
The savages’ collective gasp of shock covered Connor’s own sharp intake of breath. Sheila, her face ashen, was the first to find her voice. “How long have you known?”
“You knew?” Don unsheathed his knife. “When were you planning on telling us? Or were you?”
“The infirmary in our Hub.” The Colonel’s quiet voice was a stark contrast to Don’s outrage. “I saw the strange look on your face but it never occurred to me . . .”
“The information wasn’t relevant at the time.” Mateo spoke in his calm instructor’s tone. “There was no strategic value in alerting you. The knowledge would’ve been a distraction.”
“What do you mean—not relevant?” Don brandished his weapon, a bull about to charge.
The red circle around Mateo’s left eye was a malevolent beacon in the shadowy room. He gazed at each person in turn. “I regret I must further compound the bad news. Since last we spoke, Don and Jane have also been Implanted.”
He lowered his voice, locking eyes with Garr. “Darcy’s ‘strategy’ against the Givers should be obvious by now.”
Traitor! Connor raged, beside himself with fury. I knew you couldn’t be trusted.
Then he realized, with a stab of panic, the savages were all eyeing him. Jane looked as though she was about to vomit. Sheila’s eyes were wide in her pale face.
Garr’s expression was dark and threatening, second only to Don’s growl of menace as he hefted his combat knife.
Mateo stepped in front of Connor, shielding him.
“Don’t be too harsh on our young colleague.” He glanced over his shoulder, the glowing scanner obscuring half of his face. “I’m detecting an additional Implant.”
Connor felt the blood drain from his face. He couldn’t breathe. Darcy kept the controller, didn’t he? Tony’s final taunt echoed in his thoughts.
Complete deniability. Expendable. Cannon fodder.
His hands began to shake, the tremors running through his body as the implications of Mateo’s and Tony’s words coalesced into horrific, crystal-clear focus.
Darcy kept the controller.
Connor slumped to his knees, no longer caring about the knife in Don’s hand. His world shrank to the carpeted floor beneath him. Thunder rumbled outside, and in that sound, he heard the promise of his impending execution.